3 Poems by Alice Letowt

waiting room


chandelier light drops frames
homesick and hungover
an animatronic ocean
in near-broken gestures
a reservoir wanting
a vestibule    atrium collects
rain trees shake off





in a left handed house
Vaseline blurs a stray French bob
and half-beauty crowding the street
with suicide ideation upholstering
wasn’t up for it & I keep telling myself
a couch that could be friendlier
scratches the hardwood



Coming Back Hungry


all gloaming & glinting
almost city
pockets pregnant in parallel lines
sutured shakily to half-sick pines
don’t remember dinner at apartment
and I still remember seeing you seeing the light sprawled
and how the car smelled



Alice Letowt likes Tulip Poplars and misses the Mojave. Her work can be found in The Seneca Review, Thrush, Rough Cut Press, Interim, and is forthcoming in Eoagh.